Far away in the world
‘Neath dark welkin unfurled
Overwatched by the whole star-specked sky
Lay a green glim-rill dale,
And the soft wind did sail
O’er it, whisp’ring a soft lullaby.
From the midst of the dingle
A water did spring ‘ll
Cool, sparkling, clear up from the green.
Flowed it by hill, o’er stone,
‘Neath the light of the mone,
All a shimmering, silver sheen.
Of that brook drank a doe,
And her fawn drank also,
Panting still from their late even’s run.
Then, their thirsts being slaked,
Slept they, were they not waked,
‘Til the sun’s splend’rous circuit’d begun.
The rill met another
And ran they toguther,
Made one from the minglèd two.
Then swift off a high rock
Raced the torrentous brock
And fell into a vast lake of blue.
In the lake’s utmost deep
Did the cold waters seep
Down into the dark bowl’s o’ the earth.
In a green dingle nigh
‘Neath the star studded sky
Whisp’ed the wind, and a spring there sprang furth.
Jeremy Brown. 1994.
